


trial run (we'll take it slow)

by peardita



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Boundaries, Comfort Food, Demisexual Steve Rogers, Demisexuality, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Pre-Poly, Relationship Negotiation, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peardita/pseuds/peardita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Natasha takes a satisfied sip of her wine and sets the glass back down, stretching until her back cracks. “God, I need to get laid.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>From the next seat over, Steve arches an eyebrow. “So, ask Sam if he’s interested."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam blinks. “—What?”</em>
</p>
<p>Or, a celebratory dinner conversation turns to a discussion of sexual preferences, and Sam and Natasha learn something new about Steve. And then they try something new <em>with</em> Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trial run (we'll take it slow)

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little fluffy thing inspired by a call on [tumblr](http://allofthefeelings.tumblr.com/post/94784766595/fandom-we-need-to-have-a-conversation-about-how) for more Sam/Steve/Nat fics, because I love this pairing a lot. Thank you so much to Cam, Max, W.C. and Verity for the enthusiasm and enabling, and W.C. and Verity for the feedback/quick beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.

“We saved the world,” Sam says. “No one died or got critically injured who couldn’t super-heal it away, and Natasha survived _Congress_. Before we do anything else, I think we need to kick back for an evening and celebrate.”

They’re some of the most famous faces in DC right now, so celebrating means crashing at Natasha’s hotel suite for booze and a large amount of fancified comfort food ordered from room service. In the living room area, they each pick one of the over-stuffed love-seats in the conversation grouping to lounge on, and the coffee table in the center gets covered with plates of food and some bottles of wine Sam is _not_ looking at the price on.

Natasha takes a satisfied sip of her wine and sets the glass back down, stretching until her back cracks. “God, I need to get laid.”

From the next seat over, Steve arches an eyebrow. “So, ask Sam if he’s interested.”

Sam blinks. “—What?”

Natasha swings her attention over to Sam, who’s seated across from her, digging into some sinfully delicious baked artichoke crab dip he’s got in front of himself. “Sam, are you interested?”

Sam sets his warm, crusty, fresh-from-the-oven piece of French roll down, because putting it in his mouth any time soon may present a choking hazard. “In having sex with you? Right _now?_ ”

Natasha tilts her head. “Now, or for future reference. That kind of thing is always good to know, isn’t it?”

Sam glances over at Steve, who shrugs a little as if to say _she has a point_ , and then reaches for Sam’s dip like the dirty food thief he is.

“Hey! Back off the crab or share one of the like, four appetizers you’re hoarding over there,” Sam chides.

Steve smirks unrepentantly around his mouth-full of Sam’s delicious French roll but he passes over a plate of bruschetta.

“Pass the little bison sliders with caramelized brie too, don’t think I don’t see you with those,” Sam says mock-sternly. Normally he would make fun of things like that— _rich people thinking they’re too good for regular cheeseburgers_ —but Natasha is paying—or _someone_ who isn’t Sam is paying—and they’re incredibly good. Steve hands some of them over with one of his impish, lopsided smiles and steals some more of Sam’s crab dip in the process, and that’s probably enough stalling already. “You mean like a ... friends with benefits kind of thing?” Sam asks Natasha carefully.

Natasha has some kind of roasted red pepper thing she’s already eaten half of. “If you’re not interested, you can just say so.” She flashes a smile. “I’m a big girl, I can handle it, I promise.”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Sam says. “You just took me by surprise, is all.” He glances over at Steve. “The two of you ever—“ he gestures back and forth between Steve and Natasha, “—hooked up?”

“No,” Steve says leaning back as he draws out the ‘o’ sound. “I told her I only—hooked up with people I was dating.”

“And I said I wasn’t interested in dating him,” Natasha finishes with a smirk. “Rogers is alright and all, I guess, _but_ —“ She swings her leg out, leaning over so she can kick at his knee with her toes.

Steve snorts and bats her foot away. “So that’s why she keeps trying to set me up on dates.”

“I’m just trying to help find you some sexual stress relief.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “If I need sexual stress relief I’ve got my own hand, Nat.”

“Okay, I gotta ask,” Sam says, setting aside his wine for now, too, “but you don’t have to answer.” Steve gives him a _go ahead_ nod. “Is this a 1940s thing? Like, I know _some_ people still had casual sex back in the day, but—“

“ _Really_?” The look Steve gives Sam is unimpressed. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I think you still know me pretty well ... and ‘so are you secretly super old-fashioned?’ is the direction you’re going here?”

Steve has a point, but—“You do have a record player in your apartment.”

“He could just be a giant hipster,” Natasha says, taking a bite of the bruschetta.

“ _Thanks,_ Nat.”

“What? I’m helping!”

“Hey, I saw your ‘undercover’,” Sam makes air quotes, “clothes, if anyone is a secret giant hipster, it’s you, Romanoff.”

She makes a betrayed face. “And I’ve seen those plaid button downs you wear to work, Wilson. You dress more like a grandpa than Rogers does.”

“ _Please_.” Sam runs a hand down his own torso. “Both of you wish you looked this good.” It draws his mind back to the original topic at hand, and he looks over at Steve. “Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself. Forget I asked, man.”

“No, no, it’s alright, I just—“ Steve sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay,” Sam says, and then waits. Across from him Natasha picks back up her wine and waits as well.

“It’s not really that it’s someone I need to be dating,” Steve says. “That was just easier to say than explaining that I’m really ... just not even interested unless it’s someone I know pretty well, someone I ... already feel a connection to. Like I feel the connection first, and then _maybe_ I’m interested.”

“You don’t mean ‘connection’ like ... seeing someone for the first time and there’s a spark,” Sam clarifies.

“No.” Steve chuckles briefly, shaking his head. “Feeling a spark—I don’t even know what that _means_ , not really. Whatever it is, it’s never happened to me. I mean ... I see someone for the first time and I can think ‘wow, that person is attractive’ but I never think ‘ _I’m_ attracted to that person’ ... if that makes sense?”

“Yeah, I think that makes sense,” Sam says.

“If you like something, it’s what you like, and if you don’t like something then you don’t like it,” Natasha says. Both Steve and Sam turn their attention to her, and she looks up from where she’s been staring into her wine glass. “No reason to make it more complicated than that.” She shrugs. “That’s my philosophy, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Sam says. “If you don’t ever feel like getting with people you don’t already have an emotional connection to, then that’s just how it is.”

“It’s more than that,” Steve says, rubbing at the side of his forehead. “Sometimes I _think_ I want to be with someone and then, if it actually starts to happen ... I don’t.”

Natasha has frown lines between her brows. “I would have stopped—you know that right? If you didn’t want me trying to set you up ... if you had said something, I would have stopped.”

Steve smiles a little, lopsided but sincere. “I did know that Nat, don’t worry. It’s okay, I didn’t actually _mind_ you trying to set me up. It was almost like a sign you _cared_.” He croons the last words obnoxiously.

“Ugh, you wish,” Natasha says. “... Seriously though, if you’re not interested, I won’t do it anymore.”

Steve slumps back with a sigh. “I don’t know. It's not that I'm _not_ not interested, it's just ... it’s all complicated." He lets his hands fall into his lap, his gaze dropping down.

Sam and Natasha exchange looks.

“I never answered Natasha’s question,” Sam says slowly. “I’m a flexible guy, I like different things at different times. But I like my sex best when it’s fun, you know? When everybody can laugh together and relax, not have to worry about stuff. Which is why I like having sex with people I’m friends with, when everyone’s comfortable around each other and can just take it easy and have a good time.”

Natasha smiles over at him, soft, before her expression morphs into a smirk. “That sounds like an acceptable proposition. As long as having a good time involves orgasms for me.”

Sam chuckles. “Ladies’ choice.”

“... Steve.” Natasha stretches, propping herself up on the armrest closest to Steve’s loveseat. “What are you thinking you might want, right now?”

Steve stares down at his hands. “... Not nothing,” he finally says.

“If dating isn’t actually the requirement, how are you feeling about our current ... emotional connection situation?”

Steve looks up, a slow smirk overtaking his face. “I dunno,” he says. “It’s possible at this point we’re just stuck with each other.”

“The team that takes down corrupted government institutions together, stays together, huh?” Sam says.

Steve chuckles. “Something like that.”

“Look,” Sam says, “I know I’ve known both of you for less than two weeks, but be it brothers-in-arms or— _whatever_ —I’m obviously already all in. If take-backs were even possible, I wouldn’t want them.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. He smiles at Sam and Natasha, both fond and fierce. “I feel the same.”

“You’ll both do, I guess,” Natasha says with a mock sigh, and then tries to hide her smile in her wine glass as she takes a long sip. Finished, she clears her throat. “Alright, since it’s the topic at hand, I have to ask—Steve, how does that make you feel in your pants?”

Sam snorts into his own wine glass, but Steve just laughs. “Honestly, I’m not sure,” he finally says. “... But I’d like to find out.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “Just to clarify,” she says to Sam, “When you said ‘friends’...”

“Assuming Captain America is on board, then hell yeah, I’d be down for tapping Captain America,” Sam says.

Steve scoffs. “I don’t know about anyone _tapping_ me ...”

“Hey, man, you were the one saying how old-fashioned you _weren’t_ , get with the modern lingo,” Sam says with a grin.

Natasha is smirking. “Or, Steve, I bet you could find another way to shut him up.”

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” Sam asks. “The both of you teaming up on the Falcon?”

Steve gets up to move closer to where Sam is sitting. “I thought you said you were _down_ ,” he drawls.

“Get your tight, little white-boy ass over here and I’ll show you just how down I am,” Sam says, gaze dropping to Steve’s lips.

“Wow, you really know how to sweet-talk a guy,” Steve teases, but he’s already all the way in Sam’s space, gaze going from Sam’s eyes to Sam’s mouth as Steve reaches up to lightly touch Sam’s jaw. When their lips finally meet it’s almost with a sigh, and the kiss is soft but it lasts for several beats before they finally pull apart.

It takes Sam a couple tries to swallow. “So,” he finally says, “... You feel like running that by me again?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, voice husky, “Yeah, I think I do.”

Natasha finishes her wine with a pleased hum. “Now, don’t forget about me,” she says.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve says.

“Yeah, you get over here too,” Sam says, as they each extend a hand towards her with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there will probably be a sequel, but I make no promises of when because my writing's been really slow lately.
> 
> You can find me over on [tumblr](http://peardita.tumblr.com/), having feelings about the MCU probably.


End file.
